To Hold And To Have
by PupiloDeJP
Summary: Complex and bumpy, their relationship is quirky. The more the fun, the more to love. Natasha/Tony
1. Chapter 1

"Jarvis!" His lungs are on fire. Tony can't feel his fists unclench; this out of body ordeal cascades. He pokes in the passcode, scowling. "Override—zero-six-eight-gamma." The door slides open; JARVIS is silent as Tony stumbles into his workshop. Time seems to progress in slow motion. The door he's just come through beeps, opening again. Tony jolts up from the floor, unaware he'd fallen. His weightlessness and anxiety are quashed. The elusive super-spy makes her presence known. "What the—Romanoff. _Natasha_!" Ridiculous super-spy with super-spy training is the last person he expects to see; she's like a sneaky cat, slinking up on people.

"_Stark_!" Her voice pierces the vastness and irregularity of his fuddled mind. Thick hair slick-straight, vivacious red, is striking against the dull gray of his workshop. She's a knock-out, emphasis on the entire hyphenated word.

_What is she doing here_? _Ask her, dunderhead_…

Tony holds off, focuses on that unique hair of hers in lieu of her face, which hints she's all set for lecturing him, he hazards a guess. Does he deserve a good talking-to? Could be…he'd do himself a huge favor if he got his act together, pull his head out of his butt. Much depends on him. He hasn't time to worry if he's liked, if he's cared for, or worthy of praise. He's busy, driven, an industrious inventor, harried team player, he still is one, right? He can't help being the all-around financial-backing billionaire philanthropist extraordinaire.

'Tasha crouches, centering his face in her hands. She's never seen him in this shape before. "Hey—what's going on?"

Now, here's the hard part, a coherent answer. Why would she think there's anything wrong? He's sitting on the floor, no big deal. It's clean, at least, cushy too. He's experimenting. Off to the races, he launches into spirited babbling about H2O, the galaxy, little children, how esters of peach are concocted. He throws a bit about Pepper into his jibber-jabber for good measure. A tad about Afghanistan he tosses in too, keeping it 'real.' Sadly, his bid for coherence falls flat. Is there a point he's striving to make? Long-winded, his true to form, Tony winds down. He's hyperventilating, can't go on with his deluge of words.

Romanoff smiles. _Finally…_ The man's in love with his own voice. As it so happens, so is she. "I'm not Bruce. Therefore, not the best person to be your life coach. He has seven PhDs. The Red Room doesn't hand those out."

Tony struggles to push out, "I don't care" which bears a strong semblance to, "Inngggre." _Tasha, I'm glad it's you here and not Bruce_…

As far as 'Tasha is concerned, it's all the same to her. He's not doing so well; she's here. What can she do for him? "I'll give it to you straight like I give Clint when he feels like death warmed over. 'Suck it up. Carry on, солдат. Soldier.'" Her hand presses against his arc reactor; his heart rate doubles.

_Bam_! _Get a defibrillator_! _Who does that—massage someone's pacemaker_? _Woman, get your hand off mine_…

"We're a team. You're a part of that; a _big_ part. We take care of one another…no?"

Breathing gets hard again for him, with her hand right where it is. The flashback of Obadiah Stane perched over him, grinning, writhing, and brandishing the arc reactor pointblank in his gawking face terrorizes him. White spots play across Tony's wavy vision. His rapid blinking doesn't help; the spots remain. Natasha still threatens him with her proximity. She's bent on killing him, he reasons. _Must get away_! If the arc reactor were a bona fide pacemaker, it would be issuing device in dire distress noises. Where was that inhaler when he needed it? He tries scrambling away, but cannot. He's immobile, powerless, his strength not where it should be. He's at the mercy of the sultry, ruthless Black Widow.

'Tasha senses his preoccupation with her lethal aura, manifesting in his trying to get as far away as he can from her. Tony mistrusts what he hears and how she says it. Yet, she _is_ saying, "Stark—Stark—Tony, hear me—I won't hurt you. I'd never do that! On the contrary, I care. We all care. You're not alone. You'll never be alone as long as I have anything to do with it. _Trust_ me."

_Hallucination…Strawberry fields…nothing is real_…_and nothing to get hung about_…

He is sucking in choked breaths that fail to appease his tortured lungs. Tears and snot are everywhere. Strength even to sit up is gone. Inelegantly, Tony doubles over, flattening with the floor. His incoherence worsens. He knows what happens next. He's history.

Natasha braces his head as he sobs and hiccups into her imposing bosom. Ingenious in their own right, her sensual fingers weave trails of compassion through his hair. She rocks as she cradles him. "все будет хорошо, Tony…дорогой." Her voice a whisper, she translates, "It will be all right…dear one." He passes out; she takes over.

Once he awakes, after a lengthy time, he's amazed. His couch is beneath him, a blanket cocooning him. He's no longer swimming in snot, sweat and tears. The last thing he remembers is Romanoff's silky voice cooing to him in Russian. She speaks her native tongue beautifully. He couldn't help thinking as she'd held him how _Chanel No. 5_ she'd smelled, ultra-feminine and delicious. Is she still here? If so, where? Tony props himself up on his elbows to have a looksee. Yes, she is so there, mounted on a bench, watching _A.I. Artificial Intelligence_ on a hologram.

Despite a few oversimplifications, the movie isn't half bad.

"All settled in, I see. I'll make popcorn. With butter, or without?" Tony hacks, his gibe's force a shade weak. A phlegm remnant is stuck at the back of his throat. His heart diluting his sarcasm by half, he says, "I have work to do. Feel free to leave before the flick's over." _If she really cares about me, she'll stay_…

Sighing, 'Tasha gives him a patient expression of facial understanding. "At least you're not angry with me." She half-smiles.

"Who says I'm not?" _She didn't kill me. To what do I owe the reprieve_? "Well not as angry as I have been in the past. When you betrayed me."

"Don't do that, Tony." She quits the hologram, is sitting with him on the couch in two strides.

"What am I doing?" He sounds as innocent as this day's been long, which causes her to look sad. In turn, he feels bad, decides enough is enough. "I'm messin' with ya. You know me. Mind games king. You're our glue, keeping our team cohesive. One of your many specialties."

"I tried being on your side, and then I wasn't."

Tony takes her hand, gives a one-shoulder shrug. "You're morally-mutable, like me." His smile is infectious, as usual. "Whatever." He searches her unforgettable face with sincere eyes. "I've known that for a long time."

She looks disappointed. "Do you really think I betrayed you?"

Shaking his head, he replies, "Nope," popping the p and groans in frustration. "You're enigmatic. I've always liked that. You never bore." His eyes shoot to the hologram she'd been watching. "I never want you getting killed on a fool's errand. You get that?"

"Agreed. Gotten." She leaned over to brush a kiss upon his cheek, then rubbed at her forehead with a hand, pinning him with a stare. "I do love you. I'm not leaving if you caught yourself thinking that. Running isn't the answer. Staying is. Being with you."

Tony slumped, not knowing whether to cheer, or cry. 'Tasha places her hand atop his head, carding her fingers through his hair. "That feels really good," he takes his time about admitting, not looking too bright. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

Through her teeth, Natasha murmurs, "In the Red Room…"

Tony unabashedly licks his lips, grinning like a clown on steroids. "Bet that's not all you learned." He regrets saying that, seeing a dark cloud pass over her face. "Remind me to keep my mouth shut as much as possible, trying to make stupid jokes." Her long eyelashes hypnotize him. Her plump lips call to him. He cups the side of her face to draw her in. She aggressively allows his induction. "_This_ is no joke," he growls.

"No joke," she answers in kind. "моя любовь…_moya lyubov_…my love. Anthony Edward, you are absolutely gorgeous. How often are you told that?"

Tony's Adam's apple bobs. He scales her face with greedy eyes like she's the best thing on seven continents. "Takes one to know one, Tasha. Tell me as often as you like. I'll never mind." He kisses the tip of her nose, wanting the look on her face stained in his memory when times got rough. "You aren't sloppy leftovers yourself."

Her heart melts. "Yes**, **_krasivyy_." He is beautiful. She sees no reason she shouldn't tell him so, often. His eyes come alive just the way she likes them whenever she does.

"Not trying to be problematic here—"

"When aren't you problematic, krasivyy?" Natasha interrupts, kissing his fingers one-by-one.

His voice rises an octave, shades of schoolboy style. "You love me?"

Natasha's laughter is wicked proof that she is enjoyably candid. "No joke," she drops like a stone, and Tony smiles the smile of the devotedly-appeased. Twisted and playful he runs his fingers through her lush hair.

His breath rushes out. "And here we are," he whispers, stirring those wildly enticing thoughts that jumble her brain.

"In it for as long as we survive, she musters from deep in her throat.

How she said that broke what was left of his heart, as he presses quick kisses to her flawless forehead. "Sneaky, completely loveable spy…" His kiss is deep, soft and lingering. Natasha gives as good as she gets, her true to form.

"We _will_ survive." Her mouth conquers his again; the man of iron whimpers. A sound 'Tasha will treasure always. That, and the way his soft mustache tickles her lips.


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't make tea, but I tried. If I did it wrong, and it's terrible, it's the thought that counts so you can say no to this peace offering. But if you say no, I'll fix you an omelet. I don't make them either, but I can try." His rambling is in high gear, while he pushes the cup into Natasha's hands. The just right tilt of his head is for maximum look-_at-my-big-sad-eyes_ effect. "Okay…sooo. Wanna dye my hair red exactly like yours? If not that, paint my nails that color?" This is Tony's exertion, straining to be comforting. He's winning, he imagines.

Drawing back from the maverick magnate, the billionaire _babe_, Natasha gawps at him for several seconds. _He's out of his mind_…gotta love him, out of control and beautiful. Of course she takes the tea he's handing off with such pretty, expressive eyes. Touched, she tests the brew out. _He knows the extent of his abilities_..._blech…worse than piss_… The adoring smile she's giving him does not lose its resiliency, it doesn't need any punching up. Laughably, she has witnessed him down over-roasted 'battery acid' that tasted like charcoal while he'd been hard at work. Her heart and mind sound, she drinks up, draining the cup, and sets it down on the counter.

More often than not, his heart is always in the right place. She's gotten to know him, and she's sold, having fallen for him hard. He's her man, and she wouldn't have him any other way…certifiably perplexing, astounding, amazeballs, mind-blowing—_supercalifragilisticexpialidocious_…

"Tea hit the spot. Thanks." His reward is a soft peck on the cheek. Her eyebrows knit as she looks at his nails. What does he want with painted nails? Hers are unpainted, hard with a natural sheen all their own. "I'll pass on painting your nails. They're good just the way they are."

"But they'd be more fun, painted. Wouldn't you say?"

Natasha's face morphs into a reflection of Tony's jovial expression. "If it's fun you're after, I'm your girl. But that's not it."

"What do you have in mind?" he quizzes, a lazy smile blossoming.

"You decide this time. It's only fair."

Tony laughs, striking out for her taut abdomen, loving how ticklish he's discovered she is. Black Widow, having anticipated his move, fends off the intent of his twitching fingers. "Just keepin' it playful. _Twang_ it! Tickle Wars!"

She gives her head several good shakes, dodging his quick hands all the while. Her moves are quicker, more nimble.

Tiring, he shrugs. "Okay, that's a no." The proverbial lit light bulb over his head signals he's got another idea he feels is a 'go.' "If you want, let's generically talk about specific feelings. Are you remotely into that? No pressure…ah, maybe a little, huh."

"You're kidding, right? I'm not in the mood for dissecting feelings. That's what Clint's for. Bruce too…"

His fingers drums his thigh, a nervous gesture. "Oh, yeah. I forget about _them._"

"Sure you do." Deep within her throat, 'Tasha gurgles, "Hot Lips." She offers him her hands to hold. She used to challenge the touchy-feely aspect of their relationship, but Tony's boyish candor and seductive spontaneity worked wonders on her, bringing her around.

He grips her hands hard; tugs her to him. "Interesting how we're this team of volatile peeps, plus one Mjolnir-throwing blonde, in one way or another, emotionally constipated. We're everything that's bad about shredding the nitty-gritty. Come on, Girl."

Black Widow, Tony-subdued to a greater degree than she was before 'their thing,' snorts as she's dragged along. "Just another night to survive."

"More like thrive," he promises, looking sly. He nods, thinking fast. "What are you in the mood for?" When he works his eyebrows up and down, they take over. The obvious choice is standing right before her, but he continues his disjointed verbiage. "It's wild to think that of all the freeform skyscrapers in the world the—"

"Cocoa, piping hot." The noisein her head is deafening. Tamping it down isn't easy, especially when her nerves scream for solace. Does his mind punch holes in itself? She wants to feel, but what had been done to her has frayed her wits. She can wrap Tony up in a blanket and watch over him, but she knows that's not _enough_ insofar as hot cocoa doesn't solve problems either. _Yeah, but it's so good going down_. _Hope he has some_. "I'll make cocoa for both of us. The super-rich kind. Got heavy cream?"

Tony's side-eye makes her laugh. The corners of his lips lift. The warmth of the room intensifies, like the sun has found a way to sneak into his residence. "Works for me. I'm hooked on the stuff too. With marshmallows, and without. I've got both kinds. Heavy cream, huh…maybe."

Having been schlepped into his ultra-luxury kitchen of sophisticated, detailed design, 'Tasha reels. She knows he's super-rich, but backsplashes and appliances of solid gold? Yikes, airstrikes! She likes. "Marshmallows for you, none for me." After Tony tells her where the goods are stashed, she reaches for the cabinet. The most expensive cocoa there is. What else? Her hand hangs for a moment, and she stares at her hand _shaking_. Glaring, she wants to hack it off for giving away far more than she wants to reveal. Where has all that calculated, embedded self-control gone? She regroups, managing to curb her tells. He's watching her, feeling him climb inside. _Just another night to survive_…_just ignore, ignore, ignore_.

Tony deliberately ignores the change in her, watching her with an admiring eye. Hard to believe this beauty wants _him_. Lots of money doesn't guarantee being loved for oneself. He caught the pause, the shaking, because he's actually paying attention. Her smile, which had evaporated from her face, he wants back. He begins parroting some random, pop tune…''cause girls like you go run around with guys like me…'til sundown, when I come through…I need a girl like you, yeah yeah…girls like you love fun, yeah me too…what I want when I come through…I need a girl like you, yeah yeah…'

She can't hear that, not today. She is slipping, lowering to the floor. _Weakness_. Her worst enemy. _In front of him_… Not allowed, but she cannot help it. "Sorry," she laments, whispering, and curls into herself.

Driven by the sight of her in distress, the big-hearted billionaire reacts, zipping to her, sitting down on the cool kitchen floor close beside her. It's hard for him to comfort. The act doesn't go against his grain; he has no grain for the act to go against. Person is just another word for complicated. How in the world does he know what this shaky soul needs? 'Tasha is always beyond strong, for all of them. What can he do for her, he…the man in the armor suit of iron with feet of clay, more often than not? If he held her hand for too long, his hand would make hers all sweaty.

Tony's gentle touch reroutes her train of thought, that's fighting the rails. Natasha doesn't know how to feel about his witnessing her semi-meltdown. His hand is proof she failed to keep up appearances. Even in private, with four walls to contain her true self, she eschews breaking down. Here she is, with Tony within the confines of his walls, and she's lost it.

_Go—go—go—just leave_…_why must he see me like this_…

"We could get more comfortable. Not you of course, but there's enough cushioning in my backside to stuff oversized throw pillows. C'mon, let's get more comfy. What would it hurt, not our butts, that's for sure. Can I interest you in a plushy, yet sags in all the right places couch? Easy chair, maybe? Any takers." His rambling is no comfort, as if he refuses to acknowledge she has checked out. Natasha is shivering, overburdened by emotions that have hit hard and fast.

Tony sucks in a deep breath. "Don't apologize, Tasha. Not for this."

Her intake of breath is sharp. Pseudo-normalcy takes its time about returning. Tony twists, snags a small bag out of the blue. He squirrels odd snacks everywhere. He pops open his score, and offers, "Blueberries?"

Nat declines, waving her hand at his offering. She manages to smile, one that's small, fragile. As quickly as it appeared, her smile vanishes. The lump in her throat is suffocating. All at once, she's blinking tears away before they fall. So many struggles, so little time. **_Monster, monster, monster_** resonates in her head. It's a gesture she isn't conscious of permitting her head to rest on Tony's shoulder. She closes her eyes. She repeats the word he doesn't want coming from her. "Sorry," she breathes, choking. "Could you make the hot cocoa?"

"Do you really want all that sugar at a time like this?" Tony pops a few more blueberries into his mouth, munching away. He likes feeling her on his shoulder. Maybe he isn't the worst comforter in this cockamamie world after all.

Natasha's PTSD isn't open for discussion. Her traumatic memories surface like this, and she is thrown back into that abyss of nightmares. She was trained to control herself. Or at least push through. The pushing through is never easy, and getting harder all the time. She's sluggish and jittery. Tony's ambiguous talk is fading. She's in training, sparring with an opponent she hasn't been able to beat yet. Winning over her today is doubtful. She's choking Natasha; the sign for the contest to stop hasn't come. Natasha has gone limp, but she won't die today. Not today.

Tony knows nothing of Natasha's brutal past. He has his own. They're Avengers, all. Baggage is part of the parcel.

Natasha is gasping, struggling to haul herself free of the deep, dark pit.

His intuition kicks in. "What can do for you? This bonding time on the kitchen floor is great. I'm totally fine with bonding moments on the kitchen floor."

"Just…" She opens her eyes, reuniting with the here and now. "Keep talking. Tell me about your robots, about philanthropy, about your newest armor. Whatever. Anything, anything to bring me back, Tony. _Please_."

"Anything you need, Sweet Cheeks," Tony murmurs, his tone a shining beacon of succor. "I'm right here. Would you like to hear a lullaby? There's that one I know in Italian, sung to me when I was very young. It's a lullaby about pots and kettles, terribly adorable."

"You're adorable."

"Nah, that's you, Sweet Cheeks." Tony's voice grounds Nat's short-circuiting brain. Her breathing slows. She is wholly committed to concentrating on the rich, sultry tenor of his voice. No one has ever talked her down like this before. Pressing sharp edges into her palms so that the physical pain overwhelms the mental pain is a sick hobby, nothing normal about it.

She also goes for long, arduous runs. She's an avid climber too, the steeper rocky outcrops, the better. High summits make exceptional vantage points to view breathtaking sunrises and sunsets.

Tony claims her shoulders for himself. Clearing his throat, he sings: "_Bolli bolli pentolino, fa la pappa al mio bambino; la rimescola la mammamentre il bimbo fa la nanna; fa la nanna gioia miao la pappa scappa via__…_"

She drinks in Tony's schmaltzy singing, feeling her tension drain. He slays her dragons, and her control revamps. "You have a good voice. That was beautiful."

"I don't do it often." His lips quirk. "The Met turned me down, but what do they know. Their loss."

"May I kiss—"

"Yes!"

"Your ego."

"Gimme a minute. I'll try to find it." He tilts his head for closer look at Natasha. "Better?" he mumbles. She seems it. Her 'blues' don't just go away, so what she's giving him now will do. "Do you know any Russian lullabies? Because I bet they're ridiculously pretty."

Tony gives her a mega-watt smile, his arm still resting comfortably around her shoulder. "If you want, you could teach me one."

"Russian lullabies?" Spirited back to her better past, way before the Red Room, she is dancing around in a stark white room, humming, giggling, happy. Ivan lifts her high into the air. Her face softens. "Well, since I want to, I will…" And, she begins. When she ends, her heart is full.

Enthralled, Tony grins like a man swept away by sheer brilliance. The squeeze of her shoulders is possessive and firm. she's finished. "What did I say? Totally called it. Ridiculously pretty. Go, audition for those stuffy impresarios immediately." Overcome by her, he presses his lips to her dewy cheek. "How's this for innovative…we start a super secret band. '_Tasha and her Boys_, or something. We'll work on the name. We'll do vocals. Steve picks up guitar, Clint on bass. Bruce on the drums, of course. We'd be awesome. A new sensation, doing world tours."

Amused, but not buying the idea, Natasha snorts. "A boy band? With _me_ in it?" She returns the kiss on his cheek. "I'd put Clint on drums and Bruce on piano. Banner could easily lose control banging drums. Clint has amazing rhythm from archery. He's drumming on things hands all the time."

"Whatever you want, 'Tasha. We'd make it work."

She leans against him wearily. She can't help wondering how it would have been if they'd known each other as children. "I believe you, Tony."

"I really can't say no when you ask me nicely for anything." Tony buries his lips in her hair garnering great comfort for himself. "I play the piano. Do you like Chopin? One of my favorite classical musicians."

"Chopin is good. I've got some Rimsky-Korsakov if you like typical Russian and Russian."

"I have you pegged for a Tchaikovsky kinda gal."

Nat laughs heartily. "Tchaikovsky is what I trained to for the ballet. His is pretty music, but not my favorite."

Tony nods. "Yeah. I get that." He groans at his discomfort. "Okay, this drawer has been digging into my back for too long now. Can we cuddle on the couch instead?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Natasha rises to her feet in one fluid motion, a credit to all the rigorous ballet training. She offers him her hand, pulling him to his feet. "Comfort is good. May I sleep in your lap?" She is joking, but if he obliged she wouldn't turn him down. He is a skilled comforter. Clint is no slouch in the lending comfort department, but she's not with him. She's firmly in Tony's helping hands. "You're comfy."

Standing tall, Tony stretches his back. "My lap is at your service."

On the couch, Natasha makes herself at home, curling up with him. Sudden tears prick her eyes. She shuts her eyes, her breathing evens out as Tony strokes her meticulous hair.

_Black Widow got some pretty hair_… "Love what you're doing with your hair," Tony praises.

She gets loss in his touch. He's a good man, a man she has come to love with all of her heart. "Gimme a massage?"

"A massage at your own risk and peril." Tony pauses. He rests his head back against the backrest. "And, are you up for my personal classics playlist?"

She vaguely waves a hand. "Yeah, I'm in. Do the thing."

Raising his voice, Tony requests, "Jar, you know the deal. Beethoven, _Moonlight Sonata_."

The AI has the eclectic selection. Majestic sounds pervade the sumptuous room.

"It's good?"

"Good. Very good."

Tony kisses the crown of her head. "Then, we're good."

"Thank you, Tee."

"Like I said, anything for you, Nat."


	3. Chapter 3

Tony shouldn't drink, can't handle it, even though he believes his tolerance for liquor is stratospheric. When Tony drinks, who can stop him? And when he overindulges and often perpetrates stupid stuff, it isn't pretty. He used to use alcohol as a crutch; he had been doing an inspiring job of staying away from booze. That is until tonight. Natasha's been away for a while. She's returned, and uncertain why Tony is drunk. In she walks, and is greeted by an inebriated party guy, grabbing her and imposing a booze-flavored kiss, full on her mouth. His hands tangle in her hair, while she is panicking. Her brain short-circuits at first, and she wars with herself not to kiss Tony back even though in all likelihood he wouldn't remember any of this come tomorrow.

She won't take advantage of him; that's not who she is anymore. She eases away, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He's rambling, of course, but she ends it by leaning her index finger against his lips.

"Time to rest, Tony," she instructs in a hushed voice. "When you're coherent, we'll talk."

He leans against her, his full weight bearing down, as she guides him to his bedroom. Natasha angles him down to his king-size bed with considerable care. She unlaces his expensive shoes, setting them aside. She pulls off his suit jacket, hanging it up in his walk-in closet. When she begins removing his belt, Tony comes alive, excitement dancing in his eyes. His slurring of simple words is chronic. Natasha decides she won't remove another stitch. He'll rest comfortably, and she settles the plush comforter over Tony, whose guttural noises sound like gurgling. She pets his hair, and he grins at her like a man entranced by the loveliest vision he's ever seen.

As drunk as he is, he asks her to marry him. They'll be happy together, as she makes him the happiest man on the planet, a happiness he never thought he would ever know. Natasha coos his name over and over, which convinces Tony she's accepted.

"Close your eyes," she cajoles.

"I have to buy you a ring."

Natasha smiles, the warmth of her concern for him transforms into her humming an old Russian lullaby, which lulls him to sleep.

She is content to stay a while. She listens to his even breathing. He won't be a danger to himself, and at the end of two hours, she slips away to go stand on the balcony adjoining the room. The maddening ache in her heart persists. Things are screwed up, but having Tony in her life like this is better than not having him at all. Heartaches and heartbreaks come with this territory. Adrift in her musings, she floats, coming to terms with this fragile tranquility. It's in this wee hour of the morning that she reenters his room. Checking on him, seeing that he has tossed and turned every which way, Natasha leaves him again so she can clear away all evidence of the aftermath of his binge. When he awakes, Tony will find water and painkillers on the nightstand.

She won't be there, at least not this morning. She'll call him from the café two block down. Maybe, if he's up to it, they could drive to Montauk, hold hands as they look out over the ominous ocean, and speak of alluring things that are incapable of causing pain. She could read volumes on that subject.

_Love is for children..._

Natalie smirks. "Then, I will be that child who was spoon-fed monstrous lies by twisted souls," she whispers. "And I will thrive."


	4. Chapter 4

The first time Tony had been subdued by that pricky, green-eyed monster seeing Natalie-Natasha, whatever her real name was, share a hearty laugh with none other than Happy Hogan. They were often seen together. She and Hap were staff, at his or Pepper's, beck and call, whether their services were needed in the tower, or at parking lots, outside meeting rooms, in hotel lobbies, just about anywhere or everywhere. They stood, or sat beside him, waiting on his words, ready to act on whatever he required of them.

"You can't hold out on me. C'mon. Tell me more. Keeping secrets is my life."

Tony had overheard Natasha say this to Hap, having chuckled as she spoke to his long-time friend and savvy chauffeur. She'd come across as being more personal, and far less professional with him. Natasha, she was an employee; he was the boss. Happy was a fellow colleague, who was probably more her friend now than co-worker. The billionaire-playboy, genius inventor had envied their easy camaraderie. He, jealous? Nonsense! He wasn't sure what he felt for Romanoff. It wasn't even like. Or, was it?

Pepper was his lady. Even so, Natalie was amazing, beautiful, smart, efficient. And, ah, yes - gutsy. Her gutsiness tantalized him. Therefore, supposing he was somewhat envious of their outbreak of over-familiarity, perhaps the reason stemmed from Happy's sharing secrets with her.

_What of it_? Tony rankled.

The second time Tony succumbed to that _beast_ within occurred when Natasha had sobbed on Clint Barton's broad shoulder. The occasion? It had been a sorry one, Agent Phil Coulson's funeral. Again, the idea had rippled..._what of it_? Black Widow, the only woman on Team Avengers, was as close as could be to Hawkeye. Those two had come a long way. Barton had saved Natalia Romanova. They'd been top S.H.I.E.L.D., survivalist partners. Natasha and Clint's bond was unbreakable.

Tony shut his eyes, telling himself to dismiss that thought. Dwelling on what they shared fanned the flames. Jealousy was stupid, and he was not a stupid man. He was the furthest from stupid as a man could be.

The third time Tony felt like a fool, in the grips of the slimy green-eyed creature, had been that time Natasha had abandoned him for Steve Rogers. When he had eventually gotten past his problematic encounter with Captain _sometimes-my-friends-don't-tell-me-things_ America, and Bucky Barnes, Tony had taken to surmising that her initial decision to stand by him she'd made out of pity. He'd been guilt-ridden since Ultron. Pepper had left him too; he'd been unwilling to give up being Iron Man. Unacceptable in her book. And that entire tragedy concerning his parents at the hands of the Winter Soldier certainly hadn't helped any. Natasha's loyalty to Steve had taken her over, having allowed him to escape, even going rogue with him and his team.

Mulling all this over, Tony hung his head. He'd hated the sum total of that sorry situation. He had never taken to hating Natasha. His heart twisted in his chest, and from deep within an ache twanged. How much did she care now? How he wished for that care she had shown him before things had gone all kinds of haywire. Would letting her in, much further this time, win her over? He hoped so. He yearned for things working out for them, and between them.

Tony concluded he wasn't jealous, just strung out, from here to the Jersey shore.

The fourth time Tony talked himself out of feeling jealous, he was in denial. Cap and he had reconciled. The Avengers were back, tighter and stronger than ever. There were more marvelous super-folks on their side now... Clint had announced his retirement to farm; he had a family. Thor had returned to Asgard; he had his people to lead. What had once been Stark Tower had turned-Avengers Compound, home to Mr. Iron Man himself, along with Natasha, Bruce, Steve, and their new allies Sam, Wanda, Vision, plus the youngest of them all, perky Peter _Spiderman_ Parker.

So many memories, where had the time gone? Tony recalled Natasha's reluctance to befriend Peter, at first. Eventually she'd come around. Living and training as one team though, Natasha had grown fond of the kid. Their arachnid blood had played a tremendous part in grounding that friendship. But had something more been brewing? Once, Tony had observed them working out together in the gym. A bit too chummy, to Tony's mind. Had she had a thing for much younger men? The next thing Tony had come to find out, she and Peter had TV series they'd routinely watch together. Again, they'd been as chummy as could be. Gone were the days she had once spent hanging around his workshop, assisting, tinkering, or chatting with him about random stuff as they sipped iced coffees.

Oh, no way. He jealous? He missed having his..._his_? redhead around.

The final time that unspeakable sensation had come over Tony, he'd incidentally eavesdropped on a cryptic conversation with, _who else_? He'd gone to her room, wishing to know if she'd wanted waffles and hot chocolate. Yeah, there'd been the intercom, or Friday, but he'd decided to ask her face to face. He liked seeing her face, often. His ears had picked up on the one-sided discussion, and...

"I have no idea, Clint. I really don't. I don't know how I am where I am. Does it sound terrifying because I say I do?We stay here together, that's what's happened."

How he had wished he'd had super hearing like Cap. He'd done the next best thing; he'd tapped into the line, and had heard everything. She poured out her heart to Clint, nothing new about that, but it sounded as if she confessed feelings for someone else...

Clint asked, "So what do you do about it?"

Nat replied, "Maybe you tell me."

Clint continued, "Why me? Tasha, this isn't like tactics in Budapest at all."

Nat said, "You have to help me out with this. Between the two of us, you know better."

Clint shot back, "What? _Why_?"

Nat insisted, "You're more human."

Clint rebutted, "By whose standards?"

Nat rejoined, "You have Laura. And probably by now Lila shares this kind of stuff with her and you all the time."

_Not yet she doesn't...I wish I could keep it that way. She's still my little girl_... Clint scoffed, "Hey, listen...just let it be, Nat. Why can't ya?"

Nat refuted, "No," and sighed, "this sucks!"

Clint persuaded, "Natasha, it's okay. You're fine. And I don't think I'm wrong. The guy likes you too."

Nat said, sounding mystified. "How do you know _that_?"

Clint assured, "I'm a guy. I can read the signs. Trust me."

Nat issued, "Ugh! Why is it so complicated?"

Clint answered, "It is what it is. Yo, gotta go drive Laura to a doctor's appointment. She thinks she's pregnant again. So do I. I'll let you know when I call you back later."

Nat said, "Another baby. Quite the baby makers you two. Say hello to her and the kids for me."

"Will do. Love ya, Nat."

"Love you too, Clint."

Blaster-shocked, Tony had hurried away, heading straight for his workshop. His legs had been steadier battling every villain he could think of off-hand. Wobbly wasn't the word.

_No waffles and hot cocoa for you,_ _heartbreaker_...

He'd slumped on his couch, staring up at the ceiling at length. His emotions were tied in knots. "Who's she got the hots for? I'd give anything to know," he cried aloud, falling into one of his non-stop rambles. "Is it Steve? _Bruce_? Sam? Vis is with Wanda. It can't be _Peter_! No cradle-robbing way! He's just a kid!" Frustrated through and through, Tony buried his face in his hands, elbows on his knees. "I know one thing's for sure. It ain't _me_! I mean, I want it! But, I'm kidding myself. We hardly talk anymore." That last bit had been a quasi-sob, as he burrowed his head into the couch backrest. "It's Bruce. They're simpatico. Or Sam? He's got awesome punchlines..." Tony shook his aching head. "Steve and she've got history. Clint knows. It's Steve. It's always been him. Not me. It'll never be me."

"No, it's not..."

Tony had gone into semi-shock, as though his mind and body had separated.

Natasha had spoken, surprised at Tony's emotional venting.

"Nat!" He sprang to his feet, wild-eyed and unnerved. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough."

_You, sneaky gorgeous spy I want to kiss all over_..._may I_?

Deep down, he loved the way she breezed in and out as she pleased. She had the run of the place with his blessing, for goodness' sake. He would never have it any other way.

"_You_!" He gestured erratically with his hands.

Natasha nodded with a smirk. "Long enough to hear...whatever that was." She winked saucily at Tony; her smirking lethal. "What was that exactly?"

Tony's sigh was drawn-out. "Nat, the ravings of a man who's taken one too many hits to the head. I'm sorry, okay?" He avoided her eyes, walking to the other side of the workstation he had positioned himself at, and she stood resting her hands on.

"You're a _genius_, right?" Those sleek, powerful arms of hers she crossed over her lovely chest.

Tony waved her accolade away. "Overrated."

"No chance figuring out what you heard?"

"Some things are too complicated. Like _toujours l'amour_ heads that list." He had to look away, but couldn't bring himself to do it. She looked at him with enigmatic fascination etched in her face. "_Toujours l'audace_. Too much boldness for some things. Not enough for others."

"Is there a problem with me liking someone on the team?"

"Not a one, except if it's Peter. Romantic overtures with him isn't cool. Is it him?"

"Absolutely not," Natasha confirmed, seeing Tony visibly relax. "I'm under the impression that you are jealous."

"Who? Me?" Tony shook his head like a madman. "No, no. Way, no."

"I hoped you were," she whispered, peeking at him from veiled eyes.

His forehead furrowed. "You hoped _I_?" He did a doubletake like Elmer Fudd. "Huh?"

"That'd mean I'm not alone in this." Though she spoke with nonchalance, she blushed for him to plainly see. Natasha slunk to the couch and sat, looking past him.

Not waiting to think too hard about it, he sat down beside her. He left little space between them. "What are we talking about here, Ms. Nat?"

Her voice low, she couldn't suppress her smile. "You...me..."

"I _am_ jealous," he blurted, feeling his heart race, staring into the cores of her eyes. _Time to settle up._

She edged closer to him, resting her head on his equally broad shoulder. He pulled her hand into his, bringing her even closer, and thrilled when she nuzzled the crook of his neck. "It's fine. We're all right. Your being jealous wasn't my intention, but as long as we're all right..."

Tony breathed her in and got a touch dizzy. Smiling, he pressed his lips against her velvety forehead, which smelled heavenly, like lilac. "_Always_." His lips brushed the nape of her neck. Hearing her sigh as he swooned choked him up. "You've always been on my side."

"Always have been, always will be. See, like I said...genius."

He cupped her face in his hands, taking his time with kissing her closed eyelids. "As long as you think so, I'll go with it."


	5. Chapter 5

Crackling with power, Captain Marvel set Rocket's garish, disabled spacecraft down on the Avengers compound lawn. She glanced over her shoulder to the team assembled to receive the ship's passengers. Iron Man Tony was back on Earth. Natasha was ecstatic and relieved; she wasn't dreaming. He hadn't died. Pepper hugged her guy; she wasn't dreaming either.

_Hers, not mine_…Natasha considered with a bittersweet expression plainly on her face.

She sucked in a breath, her eyes widening as her heart expanded. "It's a miracle," she breathed, said to no one in particular. Tony looked worn-out, sick and old. His eyes lacked their usual mischievous luster. She felt terrible for him. Dried blood and dirt caked his gaunt face. Nebula and Pepper, Rhodey too, supported him as he limped to the Avengers' monolithic building, the centerpiece of their impressive compound. When Tony glanced up, seeking Nat, he managed to cast her a weak smile.

Nebula, not one for theatrics, quickly tugged on Tony's shirt. "Come on, Stark. We need to get you proper medical attention."

"She's right. Let's get you squared away," added Rhodey, ready to take over for Nebula. He put one arm under Tony and Pepper took her man's other side. Together, they helped him make the, what felt like to Tony, long walk back to the haven. Rocket, having made a rough spot inspection of his ship, sat next to the ramp, his head in his paws. He clasped hands with Nebula, who had joined him, both thankful to be together again in the here and now.

Natasha and Steve followed behind the slow-moving trio.

Steve whispered, "He nearly died."

"Yeah," Natasha replied in kind, "but he didn't. He's all kinds of stubborn." She caught Steve chewing his lower lip, one of his nervous ticks. His brow furrowed. Natasha nudged his shoulder. "He's gonna be fine." But her heart raced too.

Steve nodded, struggling, unable to wrap his head around how things were with the team in tatters. "What if he doesn't want to see us, Nat?" Steve finally said, looking at her with unbridled worry in his voice. "If it was me, I wouldn't want to see me."

"If he doesn't, then it is what it is. We have to let him know how sorry we are. Both of us made mistakes—we did, and Tony too. Okay?" Steve nodded, but Natasha could see Cap wasn't convinced. "C'mon, let's go inside. Staying out here, posing on the lawn won't get us anywhere."

Pepper and Rhodey couldn't stop thanking Carol 'Captain Marvel' Danvers over and over again. Tony sat, hooked up to an IV, looking as out of it as a survivor could be. But, when Cap started in, Tony did too, getting riled up, furious in a flash. To the horror of everyone present in the common room, Tony had shot up from his seat, going on and on, disconnecting himself from the IV. In his fragile condition that wasn't smart, but Iron Man was on a roll, accusing Steve of being a liar, and an all-around non-dependable person. "We're not the pre-Vengers. Right? Not, not! Hey, New-Girl! New blood. Yes!"

"Tony! No!" Natasha clamored, going to him, in shock.

After being in Cap's face, Tony reared back as an odd look seized control of his face. He opened his mouth, but was incapable of forming speech. His inability registered on his mortified face. Forcing himself to stay upright, he staggered and stumbled, finally collapsing to the floor, sprawled out like a disjointed rag doll.

Tucked into a newly-made bed, Tony had to be sedated. Pepper remained a permanent fixture at his bedside. She was all kinds of stubborn too, refusing to leave even to have a meal, a shower, or rest. The Avengers on hand, Thor especially, after much convincing, got her to agree to take a much needed break. Tony was making up for all the sleep he'd deprived himself of over the years. The feeding tube in him kept him nourished.

Natasha worked herself into his sick room during one of Pepper's breaks. Black Widow had tried cajoling Steve to join her on this occasion, but he hadn't wanted to. Not just yet. Besides, he, Danvers, Thor, Rhodey and Bruce were plotting to take Thanos down, retrieve the stones and undo all the damage the Titan had done. With Tony out of commission, the team had their work cut out for them.

Natasha paused, uncertain as to whether she should stay, or go. Butterflies in her stomach drove her nuts. Tony was unconscious, and as she contemplated him in deep repose, all the old feelings rushed in on her. Lost in those feelings, Nat didn't hear Pepper returning. "Natasha?" she voiced, confused.

"Hey, there," Natasha responded, her smile tentative. "Just checking on him…if that's all right…"

The women hadn't talked much lately. Pepper had been as hurt as Tony had been when Natasha had gone with Steve. Pepper used to count on Nat, the rock. But, she had chosen Steve, and that decision hadn't sat well.

Pepper stared at Natasha; suspicion mingled with confusion and depression.

"I just—" Natasha started, unsure of where she was going with this. She cleared her throat and began again. "I guess he is doing better..."

"Well, he's _not_," Pepper snapped, frowning with angry eyes, eyes which bespoke the scope of her anguish. "He's asleep. Out of it way too much. He sleeps all the time. He's—"

"I'm not asleep now," croaked Tony, giving Pepper a foggy look. The women had jumped. He rubbed at his eyes, and pushed himself up in bed. Pepper rushed to him, planting a kiss on his lips. Natasha looked down at the floor. Pepper handed him a bottle of Poland Springs.

Tony gulped the water down, draining the bottle. His eyes were on Natasha the entire time. "Pep, can you give us a minute?" His eyes never left Nat's.

Pepper was taken aback, eyeing Tony, then Natasha and back to him again. Finally, she sighed. "I could use some fresh air. I'll be gone fifteen minutes tops." Pepper targeted Natasha, and kissed Tony again before she slipped away.

The door shut with a click, thickening the silence that ruled the room.

"Sit, Nat. Please." He gestured to the empty chair close by his bed. "Welcome to my not so humble abode. It's much better than that spaceship, I gotta say."

Natasha smiled convivially, and sat down. Her heart felt as if it were at the back of her throat.

This awkward silence was too loud.

"Tony, I—"

"Tasha—" _Why this weirdness…hey, it's us_. "It still hurts a little to talk," Tony eased in. "You first. Say what you need to say. I'm all ears." She, here with him once more just felt right, electrifyingly good. Just what his heart needed.

Natasha's inhalation lasted several moments, stalling. "Tony, I'm so, so, _so _sorry for how things went down. I left because I thought I had no other choice. The government was looking for me. My whole life I'd been trained to run. Hide. And that's what I did. Throwing in with Steve felt like the safer option."

"It's okay. It's all good. I get it. He's Captain Frickin' America. The poster boy for handsome, and true blue, Babe."

Tony's snark stuck in Natasha's throat as she rolled her sparking green eyes. But, she smiled fondly at him nevertheless. Those old feelings left no room for berating him. She reached out to take his closest hand. "I've missed you."

"I missed you too, Tasha," Tony chimed back, seriously meaning it. "Is Captain Handsome on the other side of that door?"

"He's around, but he's busy."

Tony nodded. "I bet."

"He's really sorry, Tony."

"And I am all kinds of sorry too." He jiggled her soft hand that felt like old times in his. "So, what's with this new hair? Red just wasn't working for you anymore?"

Natasha laughed. "It was either this or a buzz cut."

"A buzz? I'd like it. Even if you were bald, I'd like. You give great face."

"Like I've always told you, Tony. So do you."

"Okay, we agree we've both got great mugs."

And just like that, they were back, laughing and reminiscing. Saying what was on their minds with the exception of the un-jolly purple-ish-blue bully and what he'd done to Tony on Titan. Natasha knew that it must have been beyond bad because the somber tinge of sadness in Tony's eyes was a dead giveaway. His laugh bore a ring of hollowness too. He was Tony, the genius, the mega-rich guy, and treasured friend, but to be sure, he wasn't the same man.

She'd been without him for too long. Being with him now made her feel whole again, at peace with herself and with everyone.

Pepper returned, hearing their raucous carrying on. She didn't open the door. The sound they made fazed her. Obviously Tony was enjoying Black Widow's enthusiastic company. As sure as Pepper stood behind this door getting an earful, Natasha was enjoying Tony's company. Pepper came away, going for the kitchen, her mind on a pint of Ben and Jerry's _Coffee Coffee Buzz Buzz Buzz_ ice cream, which she thought was a wonderful idea to have right now. Tony and Natasha once had a thing, Pepper knew. Were they rekindling it? Pepper quickened her pace for drowning her qualms.

Natasha felt Tony squeeze her hand even though she knew she had a long way to go to repair her relationship with him and Pepper. She was willing to go the distance, it being so worth it. If she had it to do over again, would she make the same choice, or stay with Tony, never to leave?

The next morning, Pepper entered Tony's makeshift hospital room to find him fast asleep, and Natasha curled up in the chair next to him the way she would've been. _Have I been replaced so easily_? Pepper wiped the look off her face, and grabbed a blanket to settle it over the peroxide blonde. _Ah…she snores…well, softly_.

Back to the deluxe kitchen Pepper went, desiring to make herself a real nourishing breakfast this morning. Black coffee just wouldn't do, not anymore. While she was at it, she considered making enough for Natasha, the rest of the gang, and, if he felt up to taking in solid food, Tony too. It was high time he lose that lousy feeding tube, which made him appear vulnerable, weak.

He was anything but. He was _Iron Man_.


	6. Chapter 6

Once, Tony Stark had asked Natalie Rushman if she actually spoke Latin. In answer, she'd responded with the phrase, "_Fallaces sunt rerum species,_" a quote from Seneca. It meant: "Appearances are deceiving."

Natasha's fingers rattled on the keyboard, typing in a sensitive computer code. A few seconds later, she was in, the system hers to command. She scanned the itemized list displayed on the screen. The file she needed she opened, and scrutinized it, making doubly sure it was the correct one. Since it was, she initiated copying the file to the thumbdrive. It was a massive file; the extent of its volume she hadn't anticipated. This computer was older, and the download progress bar moved at a snail's pace.

"Tasha, status update," Steve's voice interrupted through her com piece.

"It's taking time," she replied. "Insanely huge file."

A moment of strained silence followed. "I shot the arrow," Clint informed, sending a chill down Natasha's spine. She demanded of herself to refocus. "The ship's gonna blow in about four minutes," he related.

"You're trippin', Barton," Tony growled, his voice taut. Natasha easily recognized his hiding his panic with anger.

"Nat, get out of that ship before it blows," Steve commanded.

"You've got it. I'll have the file by then," she promised, willing the download to finish on the spot. _Fifteen percent downloaded, not even close to finishing. Where's an upgrade when you need one?_ "Come on," she muttered, glancing up at the doorway behind her where enemy troops would rush in, in moments. She surveyed what was going on through the window of the airborne warship to spy the red-and-gold flash of Tony's shining armor. His nimble ability to dodge explosives, legendary. The plan was his getting close enough to catch her as she made her escape. It was a 900 feet fall.

Right on cue the heavy door slammed open. Fired-up troops gushed into the cabin, fitted with bullet-proof vests over their fatigues. The firearms they toted were state-of-the-art. One man lobbed a grenade at her, but Natasha kicked it away seconds before it exploded in her face. A stray piece of shrapnel came at her, missing her by inches. She seized the computer, and ducked behind the desk, pressing a hand to her chest. So many close calls. Her wits and fast thinking had saved her time and again. She hoped her good fortune would hold. She lifted her finger to her throbbing left cheek, which felt wet. Blood stained her finger. The wound was minor; she'd live, if she kept her head. Keeping her head was the crux of her years of brutal training. Bullets hit her temporary hiding place. Chips flew from the wooden desk. Its thickness withstood the assault, but for how long? She checked the computer screen, disgruntled that only forty-seven percent downloaded.

She removed guns from her belt. With one in each hand, she picked off her attackers. She had no idea how many fell as she took cover again to reload. She came out shooting again. Her attackers returned fire, and a bullet grazed her arm. Forced to retreat, Natasha dropped back behind her bullet-riddled shield.

Fifty-eight percent, and still working...

She risked getting shot, staying put, counting the seconds before they killed her. Footsteps moved on her, coming closer to the desk. She whipped around, and unloaded her guns. Her enemies howled in pain, staggering away. She spun around to kick a soldier at her other side in his stomach. He doubled over, while Natasha dealt him two punches in his side. She kicked high, at the back of his skull, and he toppled, losing consciousness.

Less than half of the enemy remained. She snatched a grenade from the fallen soldier, pulled the pin, and chucked it at the regrouping troops. Fearing the imminent explosion, they scattered. A handful of them rallied too late, and were caught in the blast.

Most of them had been neutralized, affording Natasha breathing space.

Ninety-six percent...

"Natasha, get out of there, it's an order!" Steve shouted through the intercom.

The remainder of the fragmented soldiers ran at her. She vaulted atop the desk, and with split-second timing, sprang onto a disoriented soldier, tasering him with her Widow's Bite. He dropped like a stone.

"I can get the file!" she insisted, her voice charged with excitement.

Ninety-eight percent...

"Forget the file," Tony badgered, "We'll figure out another way. Just get outta there. _Now_! If you don't, I'm comin' in after ya!" His rough tone galvanized Natasha, having heard his pleading undertone. He couldn't lose her, not now. Not like this. She needed to jump out the window this instant. He'd catch her, and they could go on with their lives, their topsy-turvy lives that were all about saving the day. All they had to do was survive.

Ninety-nine percent...

"Nat, I don't see you," Clint nagged. "_Natasha_!"

She heard the roar Clint's explosion created. Alarms rang out all over the ship.

One-hundred percent!

_At last_! "Get ready to catch me, Tony," she cried, yanking the thumbdrive out. She raced to the window, and maneuvered herself into position.

The explosion flames raced along the long corridor, towards the cabin. The heat intense, licked at her back. She never looked behind herself, just broke the glass and jumped. In the air, she craned her neck, catching a glimpse of the fire devouring the window.

_Escaped with my life-again...freefall_!

"Tony!" she yelled, second-guessing the functionality of her com piece. The concrete was rushing up to her far too fast.

"Tasha, I'm coming," he committed.

She saw him roughly a hundred feet above her, flying down with the thrusters on full. "Get a move on, Stark! Or I'll never kiss you goodnight again. I never wanted to go splat." She spread herself out, maximizing the area for air resistance, trying to slow her plummet. Her catsuit worked against her, though, and she braced herself, repositioning. She'd be feet first; broken legs were better than a broken skull. _Who am I kidding_? _I'm a goner._..

"Gotcha, gorgeous!" Metal arms enveloped her, saving her from certain death. His metal breastplate buttressed her body as it slackened. Tony grinned inside his mask when she ringed her arms around his encased neck. He chuckled, endeavoring to carry her bride-style. His face plate went up, and the tender look in his eyes was impassioned by the protective, bordering on desperate look, that shone from them. His molten gaze was palpable as he noted her slashed cheek, the blood staining it. "I've got ya. I'm never letting go. Not now, not ever." He kissed her blood-tainted cheek, griping her tighter.

She ran a gentle hand across his cheek, cupping it in gratitude and the love she couldn't deny she felt for him. "Nice up here. I can see why you like it so much."

"Never, _ever_ cut it that close again," Iron Man warned, his tone growly.

"Can't promise that. You know that. This sort of thing comes with the territory."

"I might not always be around to catch you, _Widow_."

"True that, but..." She leaned in close and cooed against his cheek, "I trust you, _Mr. Invincible_. You've never let me down. It's too late for you to start. I'm hooked, and I don't think I'm going out on a limb to say so are you. I'm your unofficial girlfriend, and that works for me just fine."

Tony kissed her back on her uninjured cheek. "Okay, I'll work on the might not always be around part. I'll make it official."

Natasha made herself thoroughly comfortable in his bio-technologic arms, his organic armor like a second skin. "You do that, as I go right on trusting you with my life...always."

He hit the zone, streaking all out for the waiting quinjet, his heart Romanoff-empowered as Natasha kept her eyes on him, and not the stratosphere.


	7. Chapter 7

"And I'd like another crack at that Hammer this time around. Good ol' M-jo and I have this understanding now." Tony was yapping and yapping. His talking with Nat had become talking to hear himself talk. Natasha leaned her chin against the palm of her hand. He was what delusions of grandeur meant, but Nat was hooked. He was also what love meant, always would, for her. The sugary sound of his voice endeared him to her, but too much of a good thing wasn't always good. She had stopped saying, "Yeah." She was seconds away from tuning out, thinking about Clint and his whereabouts. The impulse struck and she blurted, "Tony, take a breath. You're starting to turn blue. Your tongue sounds like it needs a rest." The redhead with blond balayage rolled her eyes. _Yeah, I said it_. She . "I know of a muzzle you might like."

_Ouch, snarky much?_ Tony masked his hurt by shooting her his best Stark grin, and left the room. Off by himself, he messed with a newly-made gadget.

Natasha by her lonesome exhaled. The ringing in her ears softened as a legion of thoughts flooded her mind. Had she been to hard on him? Talking a blue streak was his way of letting off steam. So he liked to talk about himself. Was that an unforgiveable crime? She told herself to fix it, and make it quick. She wasted no time going to where she knew he was. "Tony? Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I was being mean. And thoughtless. Forgive me?" Silence on the other side of the door was her answer. _Well, okay...he's upset, and not thrilled with me at the moment...I can't force him to cut me some slack_. Coming at Tony was the wrong approach. She turned to walk away.

Tony slipped himself off the bed. When he got to the door, he cracked it open. "We're fine." He shut the door and returned to his tinkering. Nat looked at the closed door, feeling sentimental.

She raised her voice to ask, "Can I get you anything? Water? A snack? Whatever you want." Her arms were crossed over her chest as she waited expectantly. Tony wrote what he had to say in a note and slid it under the door. Nat took up his slip of communication eager to read what he'd written.

'No, thanks. Nice of you to ask.'

_My, how formal you're being_. "I'll get you water anyway, Babe." Her tone firm, she folded the note, keeping it instead of tearing it in two. "**I love you**."

Tony tinkered on, pausing long enough to give a thumbs up in the empty room. Natasha snagged a bottle of water from the fridge. Back at Tony's room, she knocked on the door before opening it to enter. Tony carelessly glanced at her, then shrugged.

"I deserve that." Nat hesitated, indecisive. _He needs space, but what I want to give him is a hug...I shouldn't have insulted him_. "I love you."

"I heard you the first time."

"I deserve that too." Hearing his cold comeback was like a knife in her back. She made a face she hid from him. _I want to smother you with kisses, but how can I if this is how you're acting_?

Tony ignored her, continuing to fiddle to distraction. Losing himself in work was his solace. Nat listened to her instincts, leaving him to what he did best, innovate. He didn't tire until the wee hours of the morning. He lay down, but couldn't sleep, exactly what he'd dreaded. Sunlight seeped into his room, causing him to realize that it was the dawn of a new day. Rising from his bed, he opened the door, startled. Natasha was there, camped outside his door, fast asleep, curled in the fetal position. Her light snores melted his heart. Tony's deliberate smile lit up his face. _Sleeping beauty, and she loves me_... His instinct took over, picking her up. Nat slept on in his arms, never stirring. He laid her down in her bed, content to let her sleep.

Tony went to the kitchen and got busy preparing breakfast. His preparation of eggs, bacon and French toast brought Nat to the table. It was just them. The other Avengers were away on sundry missions. She got up from where she sat, going to Tony so she could throw her arms around his neck. Through a cute yawn, she asked, "Still pissed?"

Tony shook his head. "Nope." He popped the p. "Don't think so." He tweaked his eyebrows. "Made ya hot cocoa."

Natasha's nose twitched. Her lips had a mind of their own, dragging her face to his cheek for a kiss. "Hot cocoa...yum, yum." Her giggling erupted. When Black Widow sounded like that, it blew Tony away.

He hugged her with an iron grip. "**Love you Nat**. There's nothing to forgive. I'm an old windbag, and you have every right to tell me so when I run off at the mouth." Natasha kissed his mouth as hard as she could, giggling against it, rejoicing at the sound of his deep, rich voice.

"You are so the best," she said, breathing passion into each word.

Tony rubbed circles against her belly, her firm body his constant delight. "Sorry for reverting into that _bete noire_ I hate. What I promised you you'd never have to put up with. Liar, that's me."

"I wasn't very nice to you." She leaned into him, delighting herself. His arms around her was better than hot cocoa. "I won't say what I said to you ever again from now on. I love you too much to risk alienating you. I'd rather go back to the Red Room."

"Don't kid about the Red Room. After what you told me about it, we won't bring it up ever again."

She kissed him hard again, not letting him go until he begged for her to let him breathe. "See what you can come up with to increase your lung capacity," she teased, tangling her fingers in his highlighted hair.

"I'll get right on that, Boss," Tony obliged with a gigantic smirk controlling his face.


	8. Chapter 8

"Tony!"

Natasha, frozen in time, recognized that arresting, feminine voice. She left off getting a plate of fruit slices from the buffet table to look in Pepper's direction. Nat saw her smile wide, approaching Tony, who stood talking with Rhodey. Potts, as regal as always, wore a black silk cocktail dress, exuding radiance. Nat couldn't tear her eyes away from the string of exquisite pearls around her neck. Tony's ex, stunning to the last, a flesh-and-blood tribute to simplicity and humility, commanded the room. Stark Industries was still at the top of its game under Pepper's enlightened leadership.

The room's glass walls reflected Natasha's appearance. She wore a dark blue wide leg jumpsuit paired with chunky heels. Her blond-dyed hair was longer, already leaked hints of her natural red hair at the roots. Her hair styled in beach waves framed her face to perfection. Her make-up was minimal, the angst in her eyes, au natural.

The woman whom Tony had loved for years lent new meaning to the words "being at ease." Tony loved Nat now, and while she believed in his love, a nagging insecurity settled around her like a shroud. Her dark past ignited her internal struggles. What did she have to offer the man who had, and ran practically everything? Giving him a daughter or son was iffy, no thanks to the Red Room's heinous legacy. Her mind cloudy, Nat monitored Pepper, Tony and Rhodey interacting like old times before the darker times had arisen to reshape their lives, everyone's lives for that matter.

Tony sounded like a man who had been given a joy transfusion. "You've never looked better, Pep. I truly appreciate your showing up."

Pepper rolled her eyes. "Blah, blah, blah, Tony. Put a lid on it. If I didn't show, you'd never let me hear the end of it. We're over...or are we?"

Rhodey bounced a 'I think I'll leave you two alone' expression off them.

Adamant about his best friend not doing that by a fierce shake of his head, Tony directed at Pepper, "Ah, Miss Potts, making me feel as guilty as always too. You're doing a great job, Pep." Tony hugged her sideways.

Rhodey shot a 'cat ate the canary' look with a weak smile he shared with his two friends.

"Who else is here? I saw Thor outside with Valkyrie," Pepper observed, her eyes harboring a smoldering glint. "Power couple if there ever was one."

"T'Challa is sauntering like the sensuous cat he is, someplace. Bruce and Clint are somewhere around." Tony cast inquiring eyes round and about.

Natasha caught him at it, figuring that he was looking for her. In time, Tony's gaze linked with hers, and he called her out. "_Nat_!" He beamed, looking typically 'all is right with my world' goofy. When she joined the trio, he hooked his arm around her waist, looking all kinds of possessive.

"Hey, Pepper," Natasha extended, her cordiality strained, feeling Tony's embrace tighten. Rhodey she had already spoken with earlier. She hadn't been in touch with Pepper for months. Nat felt a fuzzy awkwardness impose itself between them. In all likelihood, Pepper probably condemned her for stealing her man.

_Okay, sensing some_ drama, Tony thought, rolling with the situation.

"Nat, hello. It's great seeing you." Pepper hugged her, then grasped her hands, squeezing them. "How are you?"

"Fine, I'm fine," she replied, hearing how diffident she'd come across. Her emotions were all over the place. Had she really stolen Tony out from under her? _This just feels weird. If it were me, I'd be breathing fire in my face_.

The quirky party wrapped up half past 10:00 p.m. Tony opened up his mansion to his forty guests. No sense struggling home half-drunk, half-asleep, or not wanting the party to end when he had beds on beds on beds to spare. The bulk of the Avengers took him up on his big-hearted offer. Cap was having too much fun in the pool with the diving contest he was raging with Sam. Rhodey was judging their contest. 'Jolly Green' was hashing a few things out with Lang. T'Challa flew back to Wakanda in his private jet. Most of Tony's guests begged off too, as did Pepper, who graciously declined, insisting that she had to head straight to Washington for an early morning conference.

"Have a good time?" Tony asked her.

"When don't I have a good time seeing you?" Pepper whisked a kiss to the side of his mouth and departed in a haze of classy glory.

"Catch ya later," he called after her with a whimsical nod and wave of his hand.

Natasha, feeling out of sorts, a far cry from sociable all of a sudden, excused herself. She drifted off to her suite, leaving Tony behind. She showered, unable to luxuriate in the double spray's liquid warmth. While she prepared for bed, Tony rapped on her door.

"_Hola, hola, hola_. You okay in there, Nat?" He stood at the door with no intention of entering unless he was invited in.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Uh...mind if I see you? If that's okay..."

"It's okay," Nat called, wishing he'd go away.

He sailed in, and his eyes were on her like twin magnets to metal. "Are you really okay?"

She didn't meet his eyes, she couldn't, everything felt out of place. "My head just hurts a little."

"What can I get you?" he asked in anxious anticipation, looking antsy. He was about to step forward to be closer to her, but she eased herself down on the bed, lying flat, pulling the covers up to her chest.

"Nothing, Tony. Thanks so much. I'll sleep."

He nodded, his heart heavy. _She won't tell me what's bothering her. Drives me_ crazy. His wiser voice advised him to let her be.

Natasha processed his demeanor before shutting her eyes.

"Good night," he whispered, cupping her face and kissing her lips, lips that quivered beneath his touch. "Friday, dim the lights," he requested of the AI before he left her.

'-Certainly, sir-'

Natasha bit her lip to keep from tearing up, which she did anyway. Sleep eluded her. Fretful, she sat up in bed, leaning against the headboard. She rued being unable to talk with him openly. Didn't he deserve her candor? Why was it so hard to be open with him?

"Friday, is Tony awake?"

"He's in his workshop, Natasha."

She bit her lip again. "What is he working on?"

"Sir is not working at the moment. He is with Colonel Rhodes. They have been talking for forty-three minutes, fifteen seconds."

"Oh...all right. Thank you, Friday."

"You're welcome, Natasha."

She desisted from going to them. With the Stark pad in hand, she thought about searching for an e-book to read. She happened to notice an unclosed tab of File Transfer. Clicking on it, a video appeared on the screen. She viewed her sleeping form on its thumbnail.

Natasha tapped the play button, and watched. Tony's face moved to hers. The camera, which she assumed was on his phone, caught her sucking the breath from his smiling mouth. She heard him purr, "You're always beautiful. Beautiful and brainy. Purr-fect. Adorable. Silky. Fun to smooch with."

He kissed her like the first time they'd ever kissed before mouthing a, "thank you." When the video ended, Natasha replaced the Stark pad on the nightstand. She wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging them with all her might, and rocked back and forth.

_Why am I always doubting him_? _Am I happy, or just kidding myself? I'm not happy. How could I ever make him happy? I don't belong with him. I don't belong with anyone._

Although not together long, and despite her tirades of doubt, they were together for the right reasons. Pepper was with him, but not anymore. Tony and she, nowadays the torn Black Widow, were Avengers, and they were in this incipient relationship no matter where it went. He wanted them **to be**, and what Tony Stark wanted, T.S. got. Natasha heard footsteps approach her door. Before he spoke, she did. "I'm awake. We need to talk."

The door opened immediately. Tony entered the dim room. "Hey..."

Her voice cracking, she returned, "Hey."

Tony got comfy beside her, coaxing her hand into his. He kissed the side of her neck, sighing. "I know what I did, and I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry for what?"

"For making you feel uncomfortable with Pepper on hand."

Natasha forced a smile, feeling herself heat up. "You didn't. It was me. I felt uncomfortable, no impetus from you."

He shrugged, sounding light. "Point being, you felt uncomfortable. Never want you to feel like that. Not ever. Unacceptable. Uncomfortable and you don't go together. That's done."

"I'm sorry." She tugged on his hand as relief washed over her. "That's not the easiest thing for me. My past yanks my chain, and I obey its command. The power it has over me."

"No, please," he begged, shaking his head. "Don't. Don't feel you have to keep what you feel bottled up inside. I'm not the most sensitive man, but I'm trying to be a man who wants to love you the way you deserve to be loved." Tony scrunched, molding himself to her. "Did that sound as cliched as I think it did?" His chin locked her shoulder in place.

Her tears started falling. "No! It sounded strong, true. What I need to hear right now." Tony was quick to wipe them away with his thumb. His lips nuzzled her supple cheek.

"I do love you. I can't change what loving you does to me. It's real," he vowed. He kissed her, pouring his soul into his passion, and his wanting to reassure her.

Tasha reciprocated, her tenderness electrifying, raw, she loving him even more, unable to stop, never wanting to.


	9. Chapter 9

Natasha's head, sweat beads standing on her forehead, sank deeper into her pillow. Tossing, and turning, she stared in wide-eyed fascination. Tumultuous scenes swirled around her, writhing, and quieting. Thanos' motley army of death and destruction grinding to a halt before her, rendering her stunned. His wretched squadrons left dust in their wake. One by one, his lousy warriors vanished into thin air, ashes trailing on the wind. His defeat, complete with his aerated removal.

Iron Man had brought him and his hordes down so that others would go on living.

The wind changed suddenly. Motivated by the shocking sight of the conqueror, dropping like a stone against the hulk of a destroyed machine of war, Nat rose from the dust. She bolted to the fallen hero, beside herself; she had never seen Iron Man looking so horrific. "**_No_**!" she exhaled, close beside him. "Tony, **_no_**!" He couldn't die—he had to make it out of this! What would they do—everybody, family and friends—without him? She latched onto his battered body, holding him tightly to herself. "Please, please, please, Tony—don't do this!" Her chest tightened; her heart cramped, pain exploding within her. His darkening eyes, hastening into becoming lifeless, stared back at her. His pale face, half-charred and bloodied, called to her, as if to say, 'I'm still Iron Man, and what I feel for _you_, _Pepper_, _Morgan_, _Rhodey_, _Happy_, _Cap_, _Bruce, __the kid_, and _our team_ will never die…'

"_F.R.I.D.A.Y_!" Nat choked out through sobs. _This can__'t be happening_…

A subdued, wan feminine voice emanated from his beloved suit, though scarred and mangled from battle as it was, his superb creation still held together. Would he be buried in it? "Life functions critical."

She cursed the inevitable, coming all too soon for this beautiful titan of a man. Leaning her hand against his cheek, she bestowed her bravest, yet painful smile as her tears fell like rain. "I'll _always_ love you, Tony—**_always_**…" Her quivering lips lingered on that beat-up cheek; her tears mingled with his blood.

He studied her intently as the corners of his mouth hitched upward, ever so gently. His eyes glazed, his breathing thready, his spark of life faltering.

Her body convulsed, the weight of this loss unbearable. "Stay with me, sweetheart—**_never_** leave me!"

The arc reactor dimmed to fade, Nat did nothing to squelch her scream of grief, and woke herself up from this cataclysmic dream. The worst nightmare she'd ever had in her life, including those she'd suffered while in her enslavement to the Red Room. Shivering in her gigantic king-size bed, Nat curled up tightly into a ball. Her trembling grew violent, stilling only when Tony, who'd come running, spooned himself with her, holding her with an iron grip.

"Shh, shh, shh, it's going to be all right. I've got you. I've got you." He buried his face into the nape of her neck, cooing her name like a mantra. "Just a bad dream, Tash. You know how silly, scary dreams can be. They never make any sense."

"I, I…I'm n-not so sure th-that's a-all it w-was…" She couldn't tell him what she'd dreamt. Thanos' defeat meant death for Tony. The very thought of opening up about it numbed her. His body grounded her, and Natasha felt his hand nest in her hair. She believed that telling what a nightmare was about would make it come true. The horror she had dreamed about _him_ must _never_ come true. She stifled her sobs, feeling Tony hug her tighter, his embrace akin to a death grip.

"You're going to fall back to sleep, and I'm staying right here with you. I gotta say...I never realized your bed's so much bigger than mine."

Disguising her sniffling, she replied in a low voice, "Technically, this is your bed too. I didn't buy it. It came with your accommodations. A home I never had before what you've given me."

He anchored his lips upon the shell of her left ear, and funneled into it, "Everything that's mine is yours, Tash. Permanent set-up." He peppered her ear with kisses.

She buried her face deeper into the pillow, implanting her deepest sob into it. She didn't trust her voice's stability. Staying silent, Natasha clung to Tony's whispered assurances. _Silly, or not, I won't let what I dreamed happen to you, Tony. I'll die, trying to keep you alive-my solemn promise to you, my love..._


	10. Chapter 10

"I think Stark likes you." He had wanted to say so for ages. Today, the words fought to come out, and had won.

Natasha, turning her head from washing dishes, raised an eyebrow. Clint sat on a table, munching on an apple. "Excuse me?"

Her best friend swallowed his last bite, and threw the apple core into the trash bin before he uttered his comeback. "He's always staring at you, like you're his wife. A _trophy_ wife."

They were at Clint's farmhouse this afternoon in early October, a wonderfully balmy day. Natasha and the rest of the Avengers were here for a while, until the current unrest settled down. Earlier that day, they had pitched in busying themselves by helping out with necessary household chores. Nat had also volunteered to mind the kids while Laura prepared dinner for that night.

What was Clint talking about? "Stop that!" she ordered, finding the impossible idea suitably laughable. Tony was trying to get back with Pepper. He was, wasn't he? That seemed so to Natasha, although...

"I'm not kidding, Tasha. I _know_ that look," the artful archer insisted, hopping off the table to amble over to the sink. She wasn't through with the dishes. "He behaves like you're more precious than gold. Don't deny it. You know what I mean. Okay, so it's kind of odd...but...the heart wants what it wants."

"Are you serious with me right now? Your imagination is working overtime. Do I have to remind you that we have more serious issues to deal with. Focus, okay? You're imagining things. Besides, he's out, trying to get her to come here. So much for only having eyes for me."

Clint huffed, grinning. "_Fine_!" Natasha thought the matter was dropped, until he spoke again. "Wanna bet he's worm for your form?"

"Barton!"

"Hey Nat. _Is there_ something going on between you two?"

Natasha scowled at Sam, who'd thrown that question in out of nowhere. She figured he could've been referring to Tony's having brewed their favorite coffee at the counter, and had fixed her mug first. After a lot of eye-gazing and easy banter, their billionaire teammate had exited the kitchen to go chop more firewood before heading out to bring in Pepper.

"Huh?" escaped her, her mouth agape. What was going on?

"Oh, I don't mean to intrude," Sam deferred. "We're all just noticing how you guys are really getting along a whole lot, lately. Chummy, honey."

"_We_ noticed? What's with this _we_?"

Sam looked uncomfortable, but had an answer. "Yeah...right. At least Steve, Bruce and I do." He cast glances at the others, sitting at the dinning table with him, devouring pancakes.

Her facial expression went blank. "I am _not_ his type," Nat stressed. _Hasn't he made that more, or less clear_? _We are friends, good friends, now...nothing more_.

"The all-nighters...morning coffee...couch cuddling...?" Clint barely contained his amusement. _She likes the guy more than in the name of friendship. She can deny it all she wants. I don't buy it. _"Tony and his women...you and Pepper..."

"And I'm supposed to like the sound of that? _Meh_! Wrong!" Okay, there were the all-nighters, check. Those were never planned. Tony and she were night owls. Chatting with him came easier late at night. If she had trouble falling asleep, visiting him in his workshop just felt right.

They enjoyed getting together for morning coffee, check. Simply because they needed that caffeine fix to jump start their day. Sometimes she'd make it, sometimes he would. No big deal.

Couch-cuddling? All harmless. Especially that time Tony's suffering from fever had been severe. He had barely been able to eat, and had become unacceptably dehydrated, which exacerbated his sore throat. As Natasha recalled, that night, he had curled up on the couch in the home theater. Some action film had been what they'd watched. Stubborn man that Tony was, he refused to rest because as far as he'd been concerned, he wasn't truly sick. So Natasha had stayed with him, with water bottles and food, to ensure he didn't croak. He was not a good patient. He'd groaned and moaned starting at about 1:30 a.m. She'd buried him in blankets, had bedded down with him, she on the floor, in case he needed anything. When she had awakened, Tony had been missing, but he'd left a 'thank you' note. He'd commended her for having been the perfect nursemaid. Thanks to her, he'd been cured.

Sam snickered. "Ohhh-kay. Don't think I'm overestimating when I say that the guy is into you. But, like they say, 'time will tell.'" He went on polishing off his breakfast.

"Like your new suit, Nat."

Natasha nodded, acknowledging Rhodey's comment with a little smile as she admired the new suit that Tony had made for her. "I know. I'm still surprised."

Their in-house mechanic had gone out of his way to create something that not only suited her, it augmented her incredible form. Rhodey cheerfully noted, "He looks after the people he loves." Pride rang true in Rhodey's tone.

"He takes care of the team like that," Nat reminded them.

Rhodey focused on her. "And you're more special than everyone else."

She shook her head, again, disavowing what his statement implied. "I'm just another teammate, nothing more."

"So you keep saying, Nat," Rhodey soothed, giving her sheepish eyes.

Before she could counter that, Tony was back with a surprise, Pepper. "Thank you, Nat," she said.

"For what?" Nat inquired, as Pepper and Tony stood side by side.

"For looking after Tony and for making him smile."

"I'm...I don't think I alone should take credit for that." Natasha took a sip from her coffee mug.

"If it isn't obvious, he's fond of you, Natasha. I see it in his eyes all the time. It is what it is."

She figured that the Stark Industries CEO, might have been watching as they'd danced at one of the companies' functions.

"This is... awkward," Nat replied, hearing how lame she sounded. Was her mind actually short-circuiting? This wasn't a good look for Black Widow. What were Tony's true feelings for her? She wished she knew, not second guess him.

"Oh. I'm sorry... I just can't help it." Pepper chuckled. "Tony is...well, he deserves happiness, Nat."

_He does_, she subconsciously voiced. Natasha felt light-headed all of a sudden.

"Give it a chance, Nat." Pepper smiled at her amenably before walking away.

The guys talked amongst themselves, trying to look circumspect, and failing miserably.

Natasha awoke in a dimly lit room, and the first thing that registered was Tony, standing beside her bed, both hands in his pockets. Finally, the exasperating man had shown up on the 7th day of her Stark Tower arrest. After she'd been rescued from her last mission that had gone all ways haywire. She had also awakened to him in a hospital in Washington DC., looking as if he hadn't slept for days, still wearing the same suit, as if he'd gone there straight from an SI board meeting.

They hadn't spoken much. She had still experienced extreme weakness. Her entire body useless to her. She had heard what he'd said before she'd dozed off again:

_"You can't just die. You're not leaving me just like that, Romanoff. We're going home..."_

That same day, Tony had flown back to the tower, where a guest room had been turned into a hospital suite. Two doctors and a private nurse had attended her. He had expected nothing less than her full recovery.

"A whole week away from you isn't a cinch," Tony announced to the room. "But I'm here now." He turned into Nat and said, "Missed you most of all." His tone was normal, his face was far from stoic.

Natasha mustered all of her will to ask the question that burned within her. "Tony, why are you singling me out? I'm just one small part of this team."

The special attention he was careful to pay her shone in his ofttimes inscrutable eyes. What Clint guessed, what Sam, Bruce and Steve noticed, what Rhodey assumed, and what Pepper saw filled his amazing eyes. She needed to hear it from him. Tony did not move, as if it were physically impossible for him to do so, just staring at _Natasha_.

She swallowed an invisible lump, which had lodged itself in her throat as she gazed into the windows to his soul, intent on reading his emotions.

"No maybe about it. Because I love you," Tony proudly confessed.

_Right all along, this crowd_, Natasha thought. She faced this band of seasoned warriors, and matching Tony's tone, declared, "And I love him too. I guess there's no reason to deny it. Not any more."

As he munched the one pancake leftover, he questioned, "You _guess_?"


	11. Chapter 11

Steve was dressing, just about finishing up. He heard a quick knock on his door. When he opened it, a smirking Natasha, dressed in black skinny jeans, a red tank top and black leather jacket with black kitten heel pumps stood before him. Arching an eyebrow in approval, she liked what she saw, Steve, wearing faded jeans, a gray henley, and black rubber toe kicks.

"Hello...ready to go?" she asked, smiling warmly, that kind of smile reserved for those closest to her.

Steve shrugged into his favorite brown leather jacket, nodding. He grabbed his wallet and keys before he fitted Nat's hand in his. "Good and ready," he acknowledged, that sweet, boyish smile of his tickling Natasha. The ex-pat's heart skipped; spending time with Steve was more than merely therapeutic, it was a no-brainer pleasure.

The couple arrived at the garage level of the Avengers' sanctuary, and went to Steve's ride. It would be the car today, and not his Harley. Nat's updo deserved being un-windblown. She and Steve spent the morning enjoying coffee and a bacon and eggs breakfast in a small family diner in Brooklyn. Since Steve was a regular, he and Nat got the royal treatment. Afterward, they browsed a few stores, which specialized in old vinyl records, vintage books, and high-quality art supplies. Nat not only sketched now, she painted; her creations, quite good, and satisfyingly original. Strolling through Central Park this sunny afternoon was a special highlight; Steve liked the zoo, and Nat had never been to one quite so quaint.

Heading back to the car after getting gyros from a food truck, they heard sounds as if some sad animal was in distress. Never in the habit of ignoring pleas for help, Steve tugged Nat in the direction the noise came from. In an alley littered with several dumpsters and cardboard boxes, across from the park, one of those boxes was moving. Cautiously, Black Widow and Cap crept up on that box. Eyeing Nat, he flipped it open, and a golden retriever puppy, clearly the runt of the litter, its mouth and paws bound tightly in rope, squirmed.

Upset, Nat opened her purse, producing an intriguing knife, as far as Steve was concerned, with a one-of-a-kind pearl handle. After a swift whistle, he made a face in surprised amusement, grinning in spite of the weapon she wielded. "Knife in your purse? Cool sapphire handle, by the way." All normal; this was Natasha after all.

"It's a dagger, actually." She returned his look, and lifted the shivering, whimpering puppy out of its prison. "It's okay sweetheart, we're not gonna hurt you," she softly assured, crouching to cut away the hemp bonds. "We're your rescue." Lovingly, she cuddled the puppy, tucking it into her jacket.

Her actions moved Steve deeply. They located a vet accepting walk-ins. Nat and he remained with their little find while Bob the vet, an older gentleman, examined the male. Apart from the creature being dirty, cold, and a bit malnourished, he was in acceptable health. There was no collar, or ID, no way of knowing who this pup belonged to. They agreed his name should be Borya, meaning 'fighter.' They went pet store shopping next before heading home. Waiting at a traffic light, Nat had a thought, glancing over at Steve. She took up his hand from the steering wheel, and remarked, "There's just one thing..." She studied the sleeping pooch fast asleep in her lap.

"And what's that?" Steve prodded, his voice throwing concern.

"Telling Tony..." Nat arched an eyebrow, clearly making it plain that she wasn't going to be the one doing the telling.

"You're the one he's super crushing on." Steve made his eyebrows rise up and down like they were mechanical. "He can't say no to you."

"Wanna bet?"

Steve's face paled to sickly chalk. He noisily sucked in a breath. "I stink at begging," he muttered.

"Put the puppy on your shield, get down on one knee, and sell it. Borya's our new mascot. You can always mention that I absolutely adore him. And..." She sidled closer to Steve as he resumed moving the car through traffic, sweetening her request with a friendly kiss on his warm, stubbly cheek. "I'll give you my dagger-knife, regardless if the answer is yes, or no."

"_Deal_!" Laughing, Steve winked. "If he doesn't want Borya living at the compound, we'll find him a good home. Promise."

"Oh, yeah? Like whose?"

"This guy I know. His name's Joe, a member of the support group. Joe Finn. A real good guy. Like Clint, he lost all of his family in the snap. A wife and four kids, three boys, one girl."

Natasha hung his head. "Give him Borya." Her tone was unequivocal.

"I like where your head's at, Nat. You know what Tony always says...'great minds think alike.'" Steve brought Nat's hand up to his lips, kissing her strong knuckles. "And the rest of you is pretty great too." Had his opinion sounded all kinds of corny? Maybe so, a little, but that was how Steve felt, and didn't care. He came from a time, not so long ago, when being and sounding corny had been okay. Good, honest folks, like him, had no problem living and speaking what they judged to be truly valuable.

The puppy stirred in her lap, and Nat couldn't stop smiling, scratching Borya behind his little ears. "Back at ya, Steve."


	12. Chapter 12

"Aye, Captain!" Thor reported, excited, his voice booming. The battle was savage, and he, along with his fellow Avengers had their collective hands full.

Unfortunately, neither Tony nor Thor arrived in time. Barely five seconds passed when Natasha heard the imminent noise of cluster Dyna-bots approaching around the corner. If Spider-bots were bad, these virulent entities were many times worse.

_Peachy_! She fought back panic, rising within her. There were too many bots to count. She should have been re-charging her Widow Bites and reloading her gun. Time had run out. "Any second now, boys," Natasha responded, still managing to sound calm. Bruce picked a fine time to take a getaway to Tahiti. She hoped he was having a good time though.

"Nat," Clint cried. He ordered, "Tony, Thor, you better be there in the next nano second for her. From what I can see, there're bunches of those nightmares coming at Nat!"

In morbid fascination, she heard Tony let fly a spate of heated Italian over the whine of repulsors close by. "Be careful!" she urged, knowing there was no way he could hear her.

"Almost there—nearly there!" Tony chanted. Timing was everything, as usual.

Personifying dexterity and grace, she jogged backwards, aiming her Bites at a bot, taking it down. It was alarming how quickly they were catching up to her. She had nowhere to hide, so she used her personal arsenal in her wild defense. She picked off the approaching, adversarial bots with aplomb, once she ran out of explosives. It was gratifying popping them off, shooting them in their insidious heads, watching them destruct.

All at once, Natasha heard crackling lightning before actually seeing the collective bolts, appearing from behind. Like a most welcome deus ex machina, Thor swept over the Dyna- bots, wielding Mjölnir, swinging his mighty hammer left and right. The feat immense, he released lightning over the remaining bots. So powerful his effort, he smashed two of the upturned vehicles—gas leaked as if from an out of control faucet. The overturned vehicles exploded, destroying the bots closest to Natasha. Horrifically, she got caught in the crossfire. Although she had been flying through the air, in the next moment, Iron Man's arms wrapped around her before they went tumbling to the ground like concrete. Bolting from the blue, Mjolnir crashed into her leg, breaking bone. Her scream 'out-decibeled' the chaotic battle-scape. She breathed heavily, ignoring the panicked shouts of her fellow teammates, yelling over one another.

Tony grunted in his suit, sweating buckets. Natasha winced, noting how Mjölnir sat on her thigh; she cursed a blue streak in Russian. Over the comms, a choked voice grumbled, "How'd you manage that, Heartbreaker?" Tony reacted, his tone cutting like knives. "Getting whacked by Mjölnir?"

"Say _what_?" Clint squawked, ready to jump out of his skin.

"Black Widow report," Steve commanded; worry spiked his tone.

"I'm fine, Cap," Natasha informed through gritted teeth. Soon, she followed up with, "Thor's pet seems to have taken a liking to me." Attempting to move her leg intensified the throbbing deep within it. She strangled another scream, internalizing her excruciating pain.

"Keep still, Gorgeous!" Tony barked, snapping at her while he repulsed a lamp post off of his legs. Accomplishing that, he raced to approach his latest girlfriend. "Fri, scan for injuries. Can't move her until I know her status." His voice purposely low, he wondered aloud, "Where's Thor?"

Clint's voice surged over the comms: "I've changed position— hang on— yeah, I have visuals on _Goldilocks_. You won't like this. The explosions knocked him out. A slab of concrete and a chunky SUV have him pinned down!"

"All right, I'm coming in one!" came Steve's curt reply.

Natasha lay immobile as FRIDAY scanned, courtesy Iron Man's capability. She had a sneaking suspicion that her condition was the furthest from good. Seconds later, Tony snorted, taking in the AI's assessment of her condition. "Well?" Natasha asked with bated breath. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Her face had to have been a riotous canvas of dirt, soot, and blood, she imagined. So much for hitting 'it' without a scratch.

Tony raised his faceplate, and his worried look caused Natasha even more impatience. "Amazingly, you have no life, or death issues. You've sustained a femoral shaft fracture." Natasha's facial expression sagged. His voice guilt-laden, Tony added, "I'm sorry. I should've been faster."

His apology troubled her. What? He believed he could control every outcome? How all-powerful of him. In the gentlest tone she could muster, she soothed, "Tony, _don't_. _None_ of this is your fault. Quit blaming yourself. I certainly don't." She was quick to remind, "Comes with the superhero gig, right? Lighten up. Accept what you can do, and forget about what you can't."

"Look at you, clobbered with Goldy's freaky weapon, and you're philosophizing. That's my girl." He still was distraught, kneeling next to her. Nat could only prop herself up on one elbow. She gestured at the hammer currently impinging her injured thigh. "Sweetie, we're gonna have to wait for Thor. Thing is, if we wait any longer, none of this will go down well for you. My private medic's on the way. In the meantime, the hunk of metal comes off. Uh…I'm gonna take another crack at it."

"Another? Cra-? I don't think so," Nat chided, remembering his failure not all that long ago at his mostly-guys only party. "Save your strength, To—"

Putting his technology, and sheer, stubborn determination to better use, Tony gripped Mjölnir's handle and this time he lifted the hammer as easy as you please from her broken limb. The sight of Tony being all super star while gripping Mjölnir upright negated the serious pain coursing through her in that moment.

"Tony, deep down, I've always known you were worthy. And I just don't mean at this particular moment."

He twirled the hammer, wearing his endearing goofy grin all for her. "Tell me again when we're fawning over each other, extolling our combined worthiness while guzzling champagne."

"It's a date," Natasha endorsed, adoring him with her eyes.

Tony turned around, seeing Cap staring at him with his mouth hanging open. "As if you don't know that I'm full of surprises," Tony touted. "Close your mouth or one of those bots is liable to fly into it."

Hearing Nat giggling in the background, Cap said, "You're full of something, no doubt."

Quietly, Natasha whisked in, "Language…"

Tony stroked Mjolnir's thick, battle-tested head. "Hey, Rogers, stay with Nat till medical attention gets here. I'll see how stuck Thor is in that rubble, and give him back his property."

"You do that, Tones. You do that…" Steve watched him fly off, then directed to Nat, "There'll be no living with him now."

"Oh? You mean like before, or after, he picked up that thing?" she dropped like a hot potato.


	13. Chapter 13

_What_! This news, THIS HEART-STABBING news, was too much. Way too much! How to respond? How to keep from going bat-bonkers crazy? _They had gotten back together, REALLY_? They'd been separated for a very long time now. So, **_why_**?

Natasha, her emotions all over the place, wasn't one to breakdown, suffer emotional collapse. She was an overcomer. But **_this_**? Tony was back with Pepper? The very thought cleaved Natasha in two. _Is he serious_? Pepper hadn't wanted to deal with Tony's drinking problem. _And I refused to sleep with him, like I'm some cheap trick_. Natasha had stayed, had tried to help him. Tony being Tony, he'd misread her signals, had read 'let's be intimate' into her actions. At least, that was what Natasha told herself. Now he practiced being sober, was getting quite good at it, so Pepper took him back? Why did it feel wrong on so many levels?

_We've got to talk. Find out if it's really true, and if so, why? **I love him. **_Does he see that, or thinks I'm just good for a good time?

Having lost her heart to the billionaire big shot, Natasha plowed her way to Tony's galleria that sat high atop the tower. Before just barging in, she knocked twice. "Tony!"

"Yeah?"

With her index finger squarely pointing at his handsome face, she rushed him, fuming. "Are you totally kidding me?"

Staring at her, saturated in confusion, he innocently asked, "Something the matter, Nat?" His raised eyebrow needled her.

She grilled him with eyes full of ire. "You're with Pepper—again?" Fat, sloppy tears were in her eyes. She refused to look away; the look on his face wouldn't allow that. Her tears dried up. This was no time to fall apart.

Silence enveloped them until Tony demanded, "What are you talking about?"

"You know she doesn't love you, right?" Her voice was surprisingly calm, as she felt herself gain control over her riotous emotions.

"Who?"

"You know!"

"No-you tell me."

"Pepper," Natasha growled.

Tony came to his feet, sizing up the dangerous, beautiful redhead. He wished she would sing for him again. Her voice was a force of nature. But, she looked far away from breaking into song. He weighed his words, and tingled from the power of her presence. "Just to set things straight…Pepper loves me. She does. She just didn't want to deal with me when I was a useless, self-medicating drunk. Repeating, repeating, repeating my self-destructive behavior." He stepped in closer to Natasha, sensing her fragility beneath her tough stance as she shook her head.

"Whatever. She'll dump you again, you know. Whenever you're not perfect enough for her, or you don't do what she says. She'll bail, like she always has." She really didn't know what was wrong with her. This was ridiculous; she sounded like a desperate, lovesick schoolgirl. Well, she'd never had the chance to be one. Had she? Anyway, she was saving him from Pepper-hot-to-trot-Potts, which was her priority.

Tony regarded her several minutes more. "I could say the same for you, Romanoff. You won't sleep with me, but you're all too ready to give yourself to ole red, white and blue Cap. You two have become awfully _chummy_, if that's the right word. Or, should I say crummy, getting lost in each other every chance you get." Tony sniffed. "What's with you, him and that puppy? What? Is it your love child?"

"WHAT!" Her voice went the shrillest it had ever been. _Is he mad? Steve and me_! "We're just friends, Stark! The puppy needed a home. You said so yourself. You love that puppy!"

"Oh, _come on_. I wasn't born yesterday. I know when a guy is completely crazy about a woman. Rogers snaps up like a love-sick wuss whenever you're around. And you—you—"

"What about _me_?" Natasha, fire in her blood, challenged. Under her breath, she muttered, "I dare you." _I've only been, patient, understanding, supportive, caring, sincere, compliant, attentive, honest, on-and-on-and-on…because I love you, you infuriating imbecile_!

Tony reviewed the advantages of not making her angry. Well, she already was angry, so he worked on not making her angrier. He valued his butt, not wanting it kicked. "You're not into Cap?"

"Like I said, and I'll keep saying. We're friends, _amigos_, pals." Natasha bumped herself up into Tony's face. "If you're back with Pepper, then it is what it is. But, to make myself super-clear, I don't love Steve." She got into Tony's face, kissed his cheek and insisted, "I love you!"

"I know," Tony said smirking to beat the band, settling his hands around her firm, squeezable waist. She didn't dislodge his grabby possessors. "You can't help yourself."

"Stark!" Natasha screeched, "I'm gonna kill you!"

"But, if you do, you don't get to hear me say that I love you too. Pep and I _never_ got back together."

Natasha was shocked into speechlessness. "Never got back…"

On the heels of her voice petering out, Tony brandished, "I wanted to piss you off. Always have. Always hope to keep doing it. You're everything to me, Nat, alias BW. Don't make me sorry I haven't said this sooner."

His kiss smothered her, and as she fought to suck air into her lungs, she wheezed, "Said what, you jerk!"

He punished her again, harder and deeper this time, she letting him have his way all along. "I love _you_, Romanova, Natalia Alianovna. So much so that if you ever think of leaving me, you'd better sure as spidey sense take me with you!"

"Tony!" she gasped, unable to snap back with something devastatingly witty to say. So he unraveled her further with his violently potent, yummy kisses. Her response, wrapping her arms around him in a death hug, goaded him.

"Crazy girl," he breathed against her ear.

"Jerk!" she murmured, burying her lips into his beard. "My jerk!"


End file.
